


A Thousand Paintings

by Bellflower



Category: Samurai Warriors
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/590844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellflower/pseuds/Bellflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The implication that they were not meant to be hurt Mitsuhide deeply. It meant that they might never meet again, and that thought threatened to crush his spirit every time he let it pass through his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Paintings

He did not forget.

Or, at least, he did not forget _that_ particular lifetime. Mitsuhide was sure there had been others; hazy memories lingered in his mind, but the only clear thing about each of them was that they had lacked something important. Someone important, in fact. Someone he had looked for and never been able to find, no matter how far he travelled and how many people he met.

Where was he? Motochika had said, way back in the time they had met and during the one life they had been able to share, that they were soulmates. That their hearts were bound by the red string of fate that ensured that no matter what, they would be able to find each other.

If that was true, surely they would have met again by now? The implication that they were not meant to be hurt Mitsuhide deeply. It meant that they might never meet again, and that thought threatened to crush his spirit every time he let it pass through his mind.

Mitsuhide stared down at the painting before him, his brush now motionless in his hands. He was not the most talented of artists, which frustrated him, because he wanted to capture Motochika's likeness. No attempt he made seemed right at all. There was always something lacking in every picture he sketched, some essential quality that he simply did not have the ability to capture with his mediocre skill. 

“Motochika...”

He couldn't even tell what the missing quality was, which was beginning to upset him. Had it been so long that he was beginning to forget what Motochika's face had looked like? Were his memories not so clear as he thought they were? Perhaps his imagination was filling in blanks now, creating an illusion in his head which was not truly the man he had never stopped loving.

Frustrated, Mitsuhide dropped his brush onto his unwanted work and held his head in his hands. He was going to have to start again. No doubt this attempt would fail too, but he had to keep trying; this was too important to neglect.

The next canvas was placed before him, and inkpot filled again, when his friend spoke to him.

“Mitsuhide. I think it's time you stopped.”

Mitsuhide did not look up. He stared at the white expanse in front of him, unable to tear his gaze away. 

“I cannot,” he replied, voice cracked and pained. “I have to do this. I have to make sure I remember, or I will definitely never find him again.”

His friend huffed, no doubt frustrated.

“You do remember. Do not listen to the doubts in your head; if you would look away from your work, you would know it to be true.”

“No!” Mitsuhide shook his head, something like fear in his voice. “I cannot let go. I failed him once, in the worst possible way... I cannot let him go again!”

“You did not fail him.”

“I did, I...”

“Look _up_ , Mitsuhide.”

His friend's voice had become deep and commanding, leaving no room for arguments. It startled Mitsuhide enough that despite himself, he _did_ look up, and found that he was looking right into Motochika's eyes.

There was a long pause. Mitsuhide stared, too many overwhelming feelings to count welling in his chest and threatening to overflow. Despite being a man that had never allowed himself to cry, he wanted to right now. 

“Motochika, how, I... you... how long have you been there?” It took several minutes before he was able to voice that much; every syllable sounded confused, uncertain. “I have been trying to do this for so long, and you...”

“I have been here for the length of many lifetimes, Mitsuhide.” Motochika smiled, his expression reassuring and warm. “For most of that time, you have not heard me. Sorrow has made you deaf to all but your own guilt.”

“I...”

“Now that you hear me, we should go.”

Mitsuhide opened his mouth, but then closed it again, not sure what to say. He was deeply confused, and not truly sure what was happening. All he could was trust in Motochika, his heart's desire; after longing for so many years, there was no force that could make him turn away now. Mitsuhide stood, feeling weak at the knees and without the right words to express how he was feeling. 

“You've been here this whole time... I don't deserve such devotion, Motochika. You should have moved on without me...”

Motochika shook his head, before reaching out and grasping one of Mitsuhide's hands. His grip was strong and possessive, and his gaze as stubborn as it had always been. Mitsuhide let out a shuddering breath, and realised it was that stubbornness that he had been unable to capture in the thousands of failed paintings he had attempted; after all, no image in the world could capture something like that.

It was that fact he had forgotten, not Motochika himself.

“A thousand lifetimes would not be enough to break the string that binds us, Mitsuhide. I am here, now and always.”


End file.
